The Mirror Has Many Faces
by Various Authors
Summary: Avalanche and the Shinra, with FFVII through their eyes. Chapter II: Weeds and golden cities. By magnum opus(Shera), Tricia-Sama(Reeve), and miss toad(Aeris) respectively.
1. Aeris saves the day

THE MIRROR HAS MANY FACES

by Various Authors  
  
  


  
_I. Reno_

by Scarr

_a/n: I solemnly swear not to write another POV of Reno every again. _

______________  
_  
They say life's a bitch, then you die. Which is, frankly, the only clever theorem I've derived from all the shits of philosophy.  
  
So I'm broke as hell, and that greasy swine of a boss is having the time of his life with two-cent whores giggling daftly under the table. A day in the life of Magnus Shinra constitutes revelling in the glory of a nineteen-twenty cigar with your zippers undone and a pair of disposed lips enclosing over your shrivelled dick.

  
Talk about luxury.  
  
All the slum dogs do is bitch about how it's supposed to be some sort of utopia above them. You know, they even give the sector plates fancy names like "The Floating Pizza". Cute. Least there's one sector that keeps down riot now, 'cos dead men don't talk. 

Right, so you're the lucky 27 percent inhabiting the upper plate. Big fucking deal. Don't mean to punch your rose tinted specs out, but it isn't some kind of alternate Eden in here, and the factory smoke would do you in quicker than a hill of cigarettes would. 

  
Desperate situations call for desperate measures. When even two-cent whores seem extravagant and that whiny bitch who shares your bed stops doing the laundry and the dishes for you, you're usually left with three choices.

One. Take up a new assignment. Which I'm not terribly eager to commit myself to. When I get my hands on the bloody fuckwit who calls himself a pilot, he will be learning a wondrous new way to fly. For that fleeting instant, I could have vouched that Sector Seven was going to be my last job ever, what with a couple of cracked ribs -compliments of Strife and company- and jumping off the railing only to find that the helicopter was not underneath. The new kid, Elaine, Elenor -whatever her goddamned name is, told the cleaner at the fouth floor toilet that it was my fault I leapt off the wrong end. She will be belting a different tune when she sees what I've done to her new bottle of perfume.  
  
A second idea would be to arouse a revolution within the cooperation until demands are met.  
  
And three -  attempt to fly from Reeve's office, while conveniently forgetting to bother with such a mundane thing as a parachute. Of course, option three would prove to be an inconvenience to the roadway maintainers. Besides, I happen to be an immaculate person. Don't look at the suit, it does my obsession with cleanliness a great injustice. As for option two, my colleagues sure as hell wouldn't hesitate to pump a couple dozen holes in me the instant I turn against the Company.  
  
So I talk a little walk to the sixty-ninth floor, and request for something, anything to do, just hand over the fucking gil and I'm on the case.  
  
"Really? Well you can get down on your knees and start sucking."  
  
I truly hope that little brat is joking. Is it some distasteful legacy of the Shinra to derive pleasure from the fine art of fellatio? Like father, like son. I pray for the day he fiddles with that cheap, oversized rifle of his and shoots himself right in the balls. That'll give the pompous urchin something to think about.  
  
I permit myself a complacent smirk. I like playing hard to get. Which is why the little twerp never stops getting the hots for me. He may not know it, but I have him nicely wrapped around my little finger.  
  
"Actually, Sir, I was thinking along the lines of work."  
  
A blond eyebrow perks ever so slightly. He disgusts me, utterly. It's as if he rehearses every single move, flaunting that fucking gay body like he's Scarlet or something.  
  
"Work, Reno? That's new. I should be expecting a horde of flying pigs coming round this way now." Speak of the devil. Damn bitch doesn't know when to keep that bloody mouth of hers shut. She drums her painstakingly manicured nails on the desk and leans sleazily towards Rufus. She's doing a revolting job of flirting, but I don't tell her that. Watching that slut embarrass herself is definitely more satisfying.  
  
"I just made some coffee, Sir." I didn't know it was possible for her to even sound sweet. The cup is placed delicately upon a stack of paperwork, and I catch a little twitch at the corners of his mouth. I guess the woman doesn't know that his stress in ultimate tidiness surpasses mine by a mile.  
  
He declines hastily, and she takes the initiative to exhibit her cleavage as a last ditch resort. Which part of _go away and die, you bitch_ doesn't she understand? Rufus is desperate for me to save his little gay ass, and I am ignoring him on purpose. Scarlet closes the distance between them, cleverly arching in such a way that displays her total lack of regard for a bra. Sadly, she isn't clever enough. Even a fool like Rufus remains unmoved.  
  
"Scarlet, Palmer's probably craving for a drink much more than I am. Perhaps you could do something useful for a change and pacify the fatty before he starts whining again."  
  
The sensuous grin vanishes from her face and she withdraws with an attempted pout. Personally, I think she did a miserable job. It came out more like a snort.  
  
High-heels clattering upon the marble floor, she strides off furiously, as Rufus calls out, "And don't forget the lard."  
  
The door opens and she nearly collides into a passing Tseng before scowling and heading towards the opposite direction.  
  
Tseng's a man of business. He's so composed and stoical it makes me seem like a slob next to him. He's been seeing the Vice-President more often than needed, I notice. Makes me feel a twinge of sympathy for the rookie sometimes. And is it just me, or is everyone turning into a bunch of lovelorn twits? Now you know why Cupid's blindfolded. Even my best bud isn't spared from this bullshit. I remind him frequently that it wouldn't do for him to pine for that barmaid like that, it ruins the whole cool-as-shit attitude he usually holds up. Not to say I wouldn't like to have her under my sheets either, but she's apparently spoken for, and I certainly won't appreciate a Nailbat shoved right up my arse.  
  
I notice the blond boy is staring at me again. I don't like it one bit. It doesn't take an idiot to interpret that shameless leer of his, but what can I say, I'm just an attractive sort of person. I clear my throat and try again.  
  
"I mean, you could hook me onto the Avalanche case. I heard it's expanding its forces, so you might want to have more people looking into it."

  
"Right. Avalanche." There is a mild furrow of eyebrows, and he nods brusquely. "So you remind me. Those ruffians are proving to be more of a threat than Sephiroth. Especially their leader, Clod Strife."  
  
I suppress the urge to mention that name-calling is a very childish thing to do. "So do I have a job or what?"  
  
He looks pensive for a moment, then summons for the General, self-consciously eyeing his reflection in the porcelain ash-tray, while I secretly willed for it to crack in reply. Just at the moment, a hearty guffaw erupts from the corridor and Heidy ploughs down the carpet with a forceful salute to Rufus. I hope he sprains his arm one day or something.

  
"Your orders, Sir!"  
  
Slender fingers render his fringe a narcissistic flick. I cower. The kid might have dandruff. "General. Any news regarding the terrorist activities of Avalanche?"  
  
"No, Sir. But there has been a recruitment of a new member, according to Reeve. Based on his reports, though, she seems relatively harmless. They picked her up in the forests near Gongaga just a few days ago -"  
  
"Nevertheless, someone worth checking upon." Rufus interrupts, his gaze shifting offhandedly to the glass of untouched tequila on the bar counter. " You on, Reno?"  
  
I shrug. "You want me to spy on her?"  
  
"Well. I just require sufficient information on her for the records. Her background, fighting capabilities and techniques. It's a simple job, really."  
  
"Then I'll take it."  
  
Heidegger concludes the discussion with another unpleasant chortle, and Rufus swerves around to glare at him.  
  
Boy, if looks could fucking kill.

__________________________________  
  
  
_II. Yuffie_  
by morning z e p h y r.  
  
_a/n: This took us a few months to get together, and at one point, we thought all was lost. But we pulled through. I am extremely proud of scarr, tini, and magnum opus! Excellent work girls. And to all readers, I hope you enjoyed reading this!  
  
_______  
  
Slowly, I swing my legs as I perch atop a branch. Truth is, I am marveling over the hell of a decent job I did on deceiving AVALANCHE. You would think that fooling this so call "terrorist" group would be just a tad bit more difficult. Of course, I really shouldn't be complaining. Maybe achieving my aspiration isn't going to be so tough after all.  
  
Damn, my stomach is howling. So I casually jump down from the tree and walk towards Gongaga where the crew is currently staying.  
  
Wait, I hear footsteps behind me.  
  
Boy, whoever it is, that person really needs a lesson on spying. Pretending that my ears heard nothing, I continue my little walk. Just as Gongaga comes into view I pivot myself around on my right heel only to see a red- head stop dead in his tracks.  
  
The hell does he think he is doing? If anything, nobody follows Yuffie Kisaragi, namely me, around without my consent.  
  
Before a word even escapes me, I unconsciously raise a questioning eyebrow at him. In return, he gives me this mischievous smirk.  
  
Gawd! I hope he doesn't use that to flatter girls on dates. Pretty bad technique if you ask me. Of course, that isn't the only thing he needs to do some brushing up on. For starters, grooming that hair of his more than once a year would be quite nice. And that navy blue, disheveled suit of his…let us not even go there!  
  
He shoves a hand in his pocket and gives me the "lookover" while stopping momentarily at my legs. What does that guy think he is doing? He finally averts his eyes and looks up at me. "Where you heading to, sweets?"  
  
Does he own no shame? Sweets? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I am pretty sure I don't know him too well. Come to think of it, I don't know him at all. "Nowhere that should concern you, sugar!"  
  
Once again, a satisfied smirk adorns his features. Mimicking his usage of pet names obviously doesn't work too well against him.  
  
"See, you adore me already." He walks towards me while laying his Electromagnetic Nightrod lazily on his shoulder. Naturally, I grip the Conformer tighter in case anything out-of-the-ordinary should occur.  
  
He grins and places his weapon under my chin, gently tapping upward. "Feeling a bit timid? Don't worry. I won't hurt you; at least, I won't, yet."  
  
He apparently took notice of me tensing up. "It's called ninja instincts, red head." Ninja instincts definitely comes in handy every time, all the time.  
  
"Has anyone ever told you that name calling is very childish?"  
  
That lowly bastard. I restrain the thought of pulling myself away from his continuous tapping on my chin. It is extremely annoying, but that weapon of his doesn't exactly seem to be a mere toy that he carries around for fun. Instead, I present him with a self-content smirk and simply say, "No."  
  
Almost as if he can read minds, he lowers his weapon at an antagonizing, slow pace. "Oh, of course, I almost forgot. You are a child. That explains why adults don't tell you the truth. Children get their feelings hurt a little easier."  
  
Within a matter of seconds, my priceless Conformer found its way to his temple. "I don't know who you are, but I swear by the gods of Wutai that if you move, I'll slit your fucking throat out." I whisper -barely audible- and press on my weapon just a little harder to erase, if any, his uncertainties about whether I am serious or not.  
  
"I guess, we aren't going to be friends, huh? Well, in that case, you might want to reconsider your own position, too. I can sizzle your bones as easily as you can rip out my throat."  
  
Confused by what he meant, I glance down slowly while keeping the Conformer steady.  
  
Quite disturbing of a fact to be a ninja and not realize when and where your opponent's weapon lands on you. In my current case, it's not knowing when the Nightrod was first pointed between my breasts. Disgusted, I look back up at him.  
  
He lowers his face towards mine, stopping only when a thread of space separates our noses. If he wants to live, he had better not come any closer.  
  
"For your information, the name is Reno. Reno of the Turks. Don't forget that. And from the looks of it, you're the Wutaian princess, Yuffie Kisaragi."  
  
Turks? Shinra? Is that what he just said or did I hear wrong? Yeah, that's what he just said. Damn the Wutaian gods to hell!  
  
Right now, I would much rather have a bat bite me and contract rabies than have a Turk touching me. Do not think I'm kidding, please.  
  
Once again, he gives me his notorious smirk. That move gets real old really fast. "Surprised? You really shouldn't be. Just because I'm a Turk doesn't mean you can't lust after me. By all means, don't resist. It won't do you any good at all."  
  
Gods almighty! I honestly hope he is kidding. His ego had better not grow any bigger than this, or I will inflate it faster than he expects. "Lust? You? Sorry, but I don't exactly dig guys like you. Don't exactly meet my requirements as the ideal man."  
  
Barely touching my skin, he runs a finger slowly down the left side of my face. "Define the meaning of 'the ideal man.'"  
  
The lowness of his voice makes him almost irresistible . . . Gawd, I so did not just think that. Yuck! Kisaragi, what is wrong with you? Get a grip! He is a Turk! Turks work under Shinra. Shinra is an asshole who lets his lackeys carry out his dirty work for him. Therefore, Reno was most likely sent by Shinra to retrieve something from me. Right? Right . . .  
  
This is bad. I can't even convince myself to believe my own thoughts. Not good.  
  
"Yuffie! Yuffie, where are you?"  
  
I let out a sigh of relief. Aeris saves the day again. I really owe her one.  
  
He glances at the hills behind me and grins. "Darn it. The Ancient has impeccable timing. Sugarette, we'll finish this conversation later. Gotta run." He pivots around on his left heel and jogs in the opposite direction of Gongaga.  
  
Just as Reno disappears beyond the horizon, Aeris places a hand on my shoulder. "Who were you talking to?"  
  
Should I tell her? Nawh, it won't do any harm to keep this little "encounter" a secret for a while. "A lost stranger who asked me for directions."  
  
She shrugs and says, "Oh I thought the voice seemed familiar. Guess not. Anyway, dinner is ready."  
  
Gawd, in a haze of chaos, I totally forgot about my poor stomach; it's all that Turk's fault.  
  
Damn you, Reno.  
  
Damn you.  
_______________________________  
  
III. Vincent   
by tini .  
  
_a/n: vincent is angsting again. the lyrics are from pink floyd.  
_  
_____  
  
it's the slow sort of nightmare. I don't get the fire ones anymore, the spontaneous combustion of friends and lovers, the rush of red light on black, burning my retinas through. now it's different. the acid burns slow and caustic through the grey matter, things ooze blood and slowly fester and rot off. I think it's worse this way, before I could turn my head and it could be over, but these dreams take hours, and everything seems old and worn out. like me.  
  
there's a voice.  
  
it's girlish and bitter, like poison dipped lollipops. it's not what I want to hear. it's young.  
  
"….just like that. just like a turk."  
  
--your lips move, but I can't hear what you're sayin'….--  
  
I keep my eyes shut, feigning sleep, but she sees the twitch behind my lids and I wonder why she has to come to me. she's everything I lost. everything I lost and don't want back.  
  
"were they like that when you were one?" she asks, not expecting an answer.  
  
"they were worse, yuffie. worse than flirtation, worse than the insolence and bratty muttering you see. they still are. you don't even know."  
  
"I do know," she protests. "he's an asshole."  
  
I'm closing my eyes to be rid of her, but everything is tattooed in perfect swirling crisis on the inside of my eyelids, all the things I taught, and the one who teaches them now. if he remembered my warnings. if there is honour among thieves. if the next generation can uphold it.  
  
if I care anymore…  
  
--and I have become, comfortably numb….--  
  
"yuffie."  
  
"vince?"  
  
"what am I fighting for?"  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
IV. Tifa  
by magnum opus.  
  
  


Suddenly, I'm sixteen again.  
  
Hungry red flames shoot up around me, licking greedily at the houses. The air is filled with the deafening screams of the people, and I see bodies, charred, lifeless, all over the ground. Zangan is running in and out of the houses, trying to search for survivors, but deep in my heart, I know there are none. I watch in horror as Sephiroth strikes down two of Daddy's friends, before melting into flames as though he was never there. Daddy yells at me to stay where I am, and then he runs, he runs after Sephiroth, towards the old Mako reactor. I scream at him to come back, but he doesn't hear me, and suddenly, I'm moving, chasing him, praying that he will be all right.  
  
"Tifa?"  
  
But I am too late. Daddy's corpse is stretched out on the metal floor, and I see the huge wound that Sephiroth's sword made in him. I scream and scream for him to wake up, but he doesn't…  
  
"Tifa!"  
  
Barret's voice jolts me back to reality, and I find myself shivering uncontrollably.  
  
"Ya okay?"  
  
I give a quick nod to reassure him, but he doesn't look too convinced. He gives me a slight frown, before patting me on the back.  
  
We're leaving Nibelheim today. Cloud thinks that we should head through Nibel Mountains, after Sephiroth, and I hope he is right. Whatever it is, I just want to get out of this place quick. It's uncanny how Shinra was able to restore all the buildings to look exactly like they did before the massacre. But no matter how perfect the buildings may appear, all I can see is the orange glow of embers, reminding me of the day Daddy died.  
  
Cloud seems to notice my discomfort, and he comes over to stand next to me.  
  
"We're going to get him, Tifa, I promise. He'll pay for what he did five years ago."  
  
Five years? I still don't understand. Cloud wasn't there five years ago. There was another SOLDIER apart from Sephiroth, but he definitely hadn't been Cloud. Yet, Cloud had described everything perfectly that day, right down to the Mako fountain. If he knew what had happened, it had to mean that he had been there, right?  
  
Then why can't I place him in that memory? Or was the whole memory just an illusion, like Nibelheim is now?  
  
"Are we leaving or not? This place bores the hell out of me!" The slender sixteen year old ninja behind me taps her shuriken impatiently against her knee, ignoring the glare that Barret gives her. Cloud merely shrugs, and we start moving towards the mountains.  
  
Barret doesn't trust the new additions to our group. He thinks that Cait Sith is too zealous, Yuffie seems to be hiding something, and our newest member, Vincent… well, he's an ex-Turk. And Turks work for Shinra, which means they're always up to no good, right?  
  
I wish I could be sure like Barret. He's always so confident about what he does. I'd like to think I'm like that, but lately… I don't know. Lately, I keep remembering Jesse, Wedge and Biggs, and I wonder if there had been anything we could have done to save them. I keep wondering what would have happened if we had never gone against Shinra. But if I ever told Barret that, he would probably go ballistic.  
  
Oh come on. Barret trusts me. He's been looking out for me ever since we met. I can't betray him.  
  
Cloud gestures to me from the front of the group. He seems a little worried that I'm lagging behind, which is surprising since he's usually preoccupied with Aeris. Not that I blame him. She's everything the perfect girl would be: pretty, outgoing, smart, innocent. She's got an angelic smile, a tinkling laugh, and the utmost grace in movement. It's no wonder that Cloud is captivated by her. I would be if I were him.  
  
But sometimes, I get the impression that she knows more than she lets on. I can't help but wonder if she knows that I like Cloud in… that way. When she looks at me, I get the feeling that she's gloating, and that perfect smile is just another weapon to strike at me with.  
  
Maybe I'm just overreacting.  
  
I trip on a loose rock, but something cold grabs my shoulder before I fall. I look up to find that it's Vincent's golden claw, and an unconscious shudder runs through my body. He notices, I think, but the man doesn't show emotion in any way, and I can't be sure. I look away muttering a word of thanks, and he quietly slinks to the back of the group.  
  
Since we "freed" Vincent from his underground prison in the old Shinra mansion, Yuffie's spent most of her time talking to him. She's very intrigued by the fact that Vincent used to be a Turk, too intrigued according to Barret. Her behavior is obviously not earning any trust points from him. I'm just amazed that she can chat so freely with Vincent, even with his glowing red eyes and that hideous claw.  
  
It's not that I don't want to give him a chance, but the man claims to have been sleeping in that coffin before the day I was born. Technically, that makes him almost 60, even though he looks at most 30. I find that hard to believe, but then again, I never know what to believe in anymore.  
  
Most importantly, he claims to know Sephiroth. I can't help but feel wary of him. How would he know Sephiroth if he was supposed to be asleep in that coffin when Nibelheim was razed to the ground?  
  
There are too many contradictions, too many questions that nobody can answer.  
  
The old Mako reactor looms in front of us, and I clench my fists in determination.  
  
We're coming for you Sephiroth.  
  
And when we get to you, I'm going to get some answers.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
{ To be continued.}


	2. Weeds and golden cities

THE MIRROR HAS MANY FACES

by Various Authors  
  
  


  
_V. Shera_

by magnum opus

"… and don't forget the lard!"

I spin around to face the sink so that the strange trio don't see my utmost disgust at the fat man's request, and pretend to tinker with the teacups and teapot. If they don't realise that it's just pretence, they really must be clueless – I'm not even boiling any water. 

"You can drop the act now, Shera. Your visitors went outside."

I slam the lid of the tea canister back down and turn to snarl at Palmer. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disapprovingly. "You've been hanging around that smokestack Cid too much, my dear Shera. That mouth of yours is getting filthier by the minute."

"Shut the fuck up, Palmer."

"Whoa. Scary." He raises his hands in front of his body in mock fear. "Is this how you treat an old friend – no, a _superior_, Shera?"

My hands tighten into fists even as I try to control my anger. Palmer's not as stupid as he makes himself out to be most of the time. I've seen him in action often enough before to know how his mind games work. "I severed all ties with Shinra years ago. I don't have to answer to you anymore."

"Oh, right, right, after that terrible, terrible failure to launch the rocket," he sang, his voice lilting over the words. He tucks his hands behind his back and leans forward to study me with that annoying condescending smirk on his face. "Been telling your sob story to anyone who would listen, haven't you Shera?"

I can feel the blood draining rapidly from my face. "It's none of your –"

"Poor, poor Shera, reduced to a life of guilty servitude because she destroyed dear Cid's dream of outer space. Wasn't really her fault though, she was really just trying to make sure the launch was safe. Wouldn't want the dear Captain to die of an oxygen tank malfunction all the way out there in space, no?"

It's the only thing I can do to make up for what I did those years ago. All because of one stupid mistake I made, a decision made in a moment of selfishness. 

Palmer's smile widens and I feel my heart plummet. "Of course not! So she just _had to check the tanks five minutes before launch time to make sure they were okay. Never mind that she might be fried to a crisp, because all that mattered was Cid's dream!" _

It hadn't supposed to be that way. I hadn't wanted to be a murderer. The numbers should have at least postponed the entire launch. But they hadn't. I barely hear Palmer's voice over the roar in my ears. "Shut up –"

"Oh but wait, why _were_ the oxygen tanks faulty in the first place, hmm?"

A teacup smashes itself against the part of the wall by his head. I retrospectively note that it is – had been – Cid's favourite. Oh well. I'd just have to put up with a little more cursing from Cid than usual. "Don't push me, Palmer."

"Shera, Shera, why would I want to do that? You've got me all wrong. I'm merely stating the facts from an ignorant person's point of view." He plops himself into a chair, unfazed by the notion of me hitting him. "Why do you do this to yourself Shera? A talented technician such as yourself could have done so much better if you had just stayed on in Shinra. Instead, you're stuck here," he waves his hand in the air and scrunches his nose, "in this miserable town, being verbally abused by a lousy egoistical pilot, spending your days making _tea. Tell me, Shera, are you happy now?"_

"Happier than I would ever be as Shinra's lapdog." I open the drawer and rummage around. I need a cigarette. "Now why don't you just tell me why you're here? We both know Shinra isn't going to start up the space program again anytime soon."

"Straight to the point as usual, aren't you?" He gets up and dusts his hands on his pants. "Very well. President Rufus wants the Tiny Bronco, and I'm here to take it. So just hand over the keys, Shera."

Tiny Bronco? What does Shinra want with the Tiny Bronco? "Over my dead body. I already helped destroy the Captain's dreams of space. I'm not going to make him lose his most prized possession too."

"I thought you might say that, so I came prepared." Before I can react, he whips out a Mako gun and aims it straight at my head. "Newest model, MK-312. Hits with the impact of a level three spell. Considering your physical condition, I suppose if I ever have to use it on you it'd just take one shot for you to fulfil your threat, right Shera?"

Damn him. I hesitate, and reach behind me for the keys, flinging them at him as I look away. I'm so sorry, Cid, but my life is at stake here.

"That's a good girl, Shera." He tosses the keys in his left hand as he motions for me to move out of the way. "You know Shera, if you hadn't screwed up then, you might be rather successful now. If you ever change your mind, you can always come to me. I'd be happy to welcome you back, for a price of course."

The backdoor slams behind him and I barely stop myself from smashing the teapot. Damn it all. Who does Palmer think he is? Just because I used to take my orders from him, doesn't mean I'll let him do as he pleases now.

No. I won't let him get away with this.

The door creaks open as I peer outside. I can see Cid gesturing wildly with his hands. No doubt he's already found out the real reason behind Shinra's visit. I look to the right and notice the three visitors crouched behind one of my garden pots as they observe the exchange. Maybe they can help instead.

"Uh, excuse me." I tap the shoulder of the blonde, and his head whips around, eyes hardened to cold blue ice as his hands reflexively reach for his huge sword. He relaxes a little when he sees that it's only me. "This way please."

The man – I think he said his name is Cloud – gestures to the other two female members, a slim brunette with hair that reached far beyond her too-short skirt and another lady with long chestnut hair tied in a high braid and a dress too pink for my tastes. The three follow me into the house, and the leader raises an eyebrow quizzically.

"You wanted to use the Tiny Bronco, right? I believe Palmer's going to take it. Why don't you talk to him?"

Cloud's eyes narrow immediately, and he turns to nod at his companions. The three rush out the backdoor after a hurried word of thanks. I allow a smile to escape onto my face as I put a kettle of water to boil on the stove. Cid would probably want his tea to calm him down after he notices the Tiny Bronco is gone. But at least I prevented it from being taken by that asshole Palmer.

Nobody threatens Shera and gets away with it. Not even you, Palmer.

Revenge is sweet.

__________________________________

VI. Reeve 

by Tricia-Sama

_a/n: terribly late, my utmost apoligies and terrified groveling. school should bite a cactaur, and rewrites.. shouldn't be so difficult x.x and it's horrible, but I shut up now._

________  
Leather shoes pounded on the metallic stairwell, searing crimson sparks imploding from naked wires that resembled grotesque claws. I tore through the dark fabric of darkness, choking on the unsettling mist of debris that continuously showered upon me.

  
Run. Run. Run.  
  
The intense patch of daylight beckoned at me like a mother calling for its child. Hope brimmed as I dashed towards it.  
  
But it never came any nearer. Instead, a reverberating rumble renounced as the ground beneath me careened with a sickening crack. 

  
The roar of tearing concrete, the flames that licked menacingly...  
  
Then darkness.  
  
"Sir? Sir?"  
  
My lowered eyelids flew open, wincing as the harsh fluorescents pierced my watery eyes. Who designs these things anyway?  
  
Oh, right, me.  
  
"Sorry, must have nodded off," I mumbled back as I adjusted the lopsided headset, reaching for the cold cup of coffee on my document-strewn desk. "I could use a double espresso."  
  
A soft chuckle graced my ears. I swear, I never thought the ruthless leader of the Turks could actually laugh." I don't blame   
you, sir, since it's nearly midnight. About the coffee, you could try the vending machine down the hall."  
  
"Never mind then. I've heard that lab rats have died from ingesting the coffee from there," I replied with an involuntary grin twitching on my lips. Grasping the porcelain mug, I rose and strode over to the crystalline panes of glass that overlooked the distant world below.  
  
"So when does the job start?"  
  
"About 0015 hours. You have the girl with you?"  
  
Olive eyes travelled over to the slumbering figure on my tattered couch. Reaching out a gentle hand, I caressed the silken skin of her slightly flushed cheeks. Dark lashes were lowered in peaceful slumber as cinnamon tresses cascaded over rose-tinged skin.  
  
Marlene.  
  
I recall the day that I had plodded over to her side and meticulously explained her part in the plan lest anything went wrong. Things were going fine then. She listened with much innocence, taking in every detail as an adventure.  
  
That was until she narrowed her almond eyes and said with all the seriousness a child could muster.  
  
"You're a bad person, Uncle Reeve."  
  
I remember literally hearing the chink of my falling armour.  
  
"Yeah, she's with me."  
  
"Good then," he replied rather awkwardly.

  
Silence ensued as I contemplated my next move. Wandering aimlessly around in my cramped office could result in injuries sustained by tripping over the assortment of whatever it was I had on my floor.  
  
Yet I did not posses the heart to stir the tiny angel from her deep slumber. Well, this is shall be then.  
  
Gazing at the bustling city below, accented with neon green embers and occasional flickering azure gleams, a gentle melancholic sigh eluded me. I had no doubt that I cared about the well-being of the people in the sectors. The sectors that I had spent restless nights contemplating about, watching as the city was built from the bare ground, only to discover that the development was thoroughly altered. Not to say altered, omission of certain parts would be more exact.  
  
I had brought this up at a meeting quite some time ago, but the president's only reply was "The welfare of the people in the slums is not under your department, I recall."  
  
Roughly translated, I don't give a damn so get the hell out of my face.  
  
And now I was working for a system that threatened to destroy them.  
  
The porcelain mug that I intended to place on the nearby desk suddenly took advantage of my misjudgment and toppled off, landing on the tiled floor with a reverberating crash.  
  
"Oh, SHIT!"  
  
"You okay?" Tseng asked through the headset.  
  
"Fine, just broke something," I mumbled back in explanation as I crouched down to pick up the scattered shards. A stifled protest eluded me as I accidentally cut myself, the drop of bright crimson shimmering under the moonlight.  
  
Blood on my hands.  
  
I gazed transiently at the painful wound, a realization dawning upon me.  
  
I was none other than a bloody traitor.  
  
"Uncle Reeve, what happened?" the timid voice jolted me from stupor. Swiftly dressing my wound and clearing away the last of the shattered remains, I turned to the now-awake youngster.  
  
"Mornin' sunshine," I whispered playfully as her slender arms raveled around my neck, heavy head resting comfortably on my shoulder. " I just broke something, that's all. It's okay now."  
  
She glanced up at me, hazel eyes brimming with childlike insecurity. I could have held her forever.  
  
"Sir, it's time," Tseng reminded me in his authorative tone.  
  
"It's time, sweetheart," I repeated to the young child as hands unfurled. She nodded meticulously.  
  
I reached over to the sleek machine and tethered its bulky counterparts to my being. More than 2000 miles away in the Gold Saucer, Cait Sith stirred.  
  
"Let's roll," I attempted to keep my tone slightly bemused as I flicked the headset to Cait Sith's mode, but failed miserably as what came out was a nervous stutter. This was it. The moment I had mentally rehearsed every living second of my dreary life.  
  
It was time.

__________________________________  
  


VII. Aeris 

by miss toad  
  


  
He's not ready. He still doesn't understand, he's still too jumbled-—but I don't think it can't wait any longer.  
  
"Cloud, look!"  
  
He does, and I wonder if he marvels at it like I do- it's too much, too wonderful, especially in comparison to past settings.   
  
Enough of that! Just moments before stepping into the sway-prone gondola, I had to fight off rolls of laughter. Ah, the play-that went marvelously horrible. I think I lost my temper, but, really.  
  
Who'd have though the princess would have become the hero? The dragon's defeat was hilarious. It was absolutely incorrect and hysterical.. Dysfunctional. And thus reminded me so terribly of our group.   
  
A flurry of chattering bats rise among the smog like smoke billowing from the eerie seeming hotel—-where we're staying for the night.  
  
Every time Cloud attempted to slaughter the king or insisted that cup size was more important than the fate of Galdia, it did seem to represent a portion of our troubles. Whenever Cloud has an episode, one of us loses our temper, every complaint and whine. And I don't care if they, -we- swear on Leviathon: we are all doing this for a private reason, one much more important to our own selves than the world we live in.   
  
I don't have as little faith in them as it sounds! They're great-only, as much as I'm sure they would like to save the planet from this and that, that's not all of it. Not even for me.   
  
"Oh.."  
  
An explosion of balloons-each brimming with it's own unique color, few lasting the change in air pressure to spin by the window-rushes from the event square and faint cheering can be heard. Even that is beautiful.  
  
Oh, but it is tiring. Walking mile upon mile. And please don't think there just happen to magically be restrooms when we are forced to stay in a weak, barely staked tent for the night; too tired to bother to do any more than fall over.   
  
Which really sort of led to the accidental, middle-of-the-night Barret using poison oak to.. Ahem.. instead of a safer type of leaf. We'd been picking at cold, canned beans when it happened. He had only just realized his mistake and was in a painful fit of rage. Most of us were trying not to laugh (poor Barret) at his misfortune, even Cloud cracked a smile. Cid was absolutely dying, nearly passing out due to his laughter. That is, until Barret nearly took off his leg with a well aimed spray of bullets.  
  
Perhaps that and a couple of other incidents could be tied with my little show of feminism (though at the time it was more of a rage)-hey, if the damsel princess can kick a dragon's patoot and shoo away the hero, I'd call that a victory for any woman! Tee hee, I love how Cloud fell, it's a wonder I didn't just slip through a mood swing and fall into hysterics right then and there. I was torn between that and kicking him. I should have done both-likely the only time I could have gotten away with it.  
  
But thinking of Cloud-ah, I was digressing, putting this off-reminds me of what needs to be said. It has to be, and I can't   
imagine he hasn't noticed anything. You can't possibly be two people at once and not notice there's something off.   
  
"Wow!"  
  
The chocobos race by, I'd heard of their many colors but never seen it so vividly, so close-they're majestic.   
  
I'm avoiding it again, because thinking of Cloud brings up Tifa. Holy, I love Tifa! And that's half the cause of the rush of guilt-she likes him, it's obvious, and I can only hope to death she doesn't think I'm spiting her. She's wonderful, but I can't stop, I can't give it up now. (I need to ask her if she's noticed Cloud behaving differently, surely she as his childhood friend would know..)  
  
The backdrop explodes. The piercing wail of skyrocketing sparks of light reach our height and burst-streams of light arching off into every which direction, glittering and aglow. I gasp and I can feel my jaw unhinging in a giddy sort of surprise. Cloud is no where near as astonished, impressed, but he nods—-perhaps only to appease my jubilant grin directed entirely towards him.   
  
But the atmosphere softens, I swallow-—somber now, serious now.   
  
"First off, it bothered me how you looked exactly alike."  
  
He looks up, ever illuminated ceruleans beyond baffled. I fear he won't understand even when I finish.  
  
"Two completely different people, but look exactly the same."  
  
My selfish reason. I couldn't let him just walk away forever—not when he was Zack. Not when he wasn't.  
  
"The way you walk, gesture.. I think I must have seen him again in you…"  
  
That's why I started—-return of passed habit, and just because it was –him-, and I almost fooled myself into letting that illusion lie. But it hurt too much. Because I had loved him.. And I'd had to come to terms with his disappearance. I couldn't let myself pretend, trick and inevitably hurt myself by making myself believe that it –was- Zack. And that he was back.   
  
Does he, Cloud, have any idea?  
  
"..But you're different. ..Things are different."  
  
He isn't Zack and it isn't five years ago. The situation is completely foreign.. But he isn't Zack, and he is Zack. And I had to   
know why. So I followed, I tested.. classifying reactions and statements as Zack and Not Zack—-and this drives me mad, it's become that I can hardly look at him without doing it.   
  
Flirtation—-though, I'll admit, due to simple attraction.. and a force of habit developed over two years of comfort with Zack—also pushed towards this examination. Zack had worshipped the art, Cloud can barely tell a batted eye from his hand. I think.   
  
"..Cloud.. I'm searching for you.."  
  
He's so close, but so far-—sometimes I can see him and I think I've begun to fall for him. But not love, I can't let myself. It's not fair to either of us, he isn't himself, not yet. But he isn't totally Zack either..   
  
He isn't ready for this, but things have become so much so fast, there isn't any time, any correct place. I had to say something—-  
  
"…?" He doesn't say anything, but his eyes speak the question. I can almost hear it.   
  
I pause, my eyes drawn from his face to the foot marked wood of the gondola's floor. I want to take his hand-—this isn't some chatty, everyday conversation. It's serious, at the wrong place and time.. but the only place, the only time. He won't realize how important it is yet.. Because he's still lost. I.. I'm so close, as close as he is and equally as far.   
  
There are times when I can look, look far down and see Cloud-as himself, not the image of another.  
  
"I want to meet you."  
  
He's looking at me like I'm crazy, but that's alright. I need to find him, find him among the Zack. To put Zack to rest (to admit what I felt five years ago, a return I couldn't accept), to wake Cloud up and let him live. Selfish reasons too. Because it hurts to see Zack looking at me from Cloud's eyes.  
  
"…But I'm right here."  
  
No. …You aren't.  
  
I shake my head. Then, nodding, awkward and struggling for the words even as they come pouring out by their own merit. Quiet, insisting.. and absolutely, perhaps infuriatingly baffling to Cloud. Poor Cloud.  
  
"I know, I know… what I really mean is, I want to meet.. you."  
  
I want him to look-—with his eyes that glow like –his-, and his face that can so easily be mistaken as -his- —-at me. And I want him to see me; really see everything, really see me.  
  
But that's impossible.  
  
He cannot even see himself.

"What's wrong? Don't you like being with me?"  
  
He looks so confused; something he can't be blamed for. One second I'm solemn, to the point in a most intent and maybe mysterious manner. The next the entire thing has passed—-though I can tell from his face that he's still pondering it—-and I'm smiling and giddy again, teasing while still wanting that answer.  
  
"No.. it's not that.."  
  
I wonder—-I'm not the easiest person to deal with. I –know- I've grated more than a few nerves and feelings on this strange quest of ours.   
  
But I'm still happy, happy even as a desperate voice warbles—-is it Cloud or Zack?  
  
"Good! I'm glad."  
  
I am. And fighting to keep the rest of the evening free of Cloud analyzing. I managed through the play, up until the gondola.. it's horrible to think it's too much to ask to be able to enjoy an evening, enjoy yourself without constantly examining a person. Subconsciously as it may be, without even realizing the fact until you note your own preoccupation with it.   
  
It's time to go back—-we have an awful lot to do tomorrow, a far way to travel before sure confrontations. I just know I'm going to be hating myself for the date, the whole concept will seem foolish and a waste of strength and time. No, that's a lie, I'll probably still be torn between laughing and tearing out my hair with the need to know.   
  
It isn't that late really, but late enough-—people are still walking around, mostly couples (in honor of the night) hand in hand. A short ride of twisting, propelling tubes, and we're back at the station—-Wait—-  
  
"Cait Sith?" He speaks it first, unsure of why our strange friend is out so late.   
  
I'd like to know myself. Perhaps visiting friends? We picked him up here. (Odd, yes. It's ridiculous how we've gotten party members).  
  
Cait Sith doesn't seem to have heard Cloud—-he appears sort of closed, intent on some other purpose.  
  
He's taking something from his mog (where the mog has room to hold items, I don't know), and--- !  
  
The keystone?   
  
But now after another exclamation from Cloud, Cait –has- noticed and in response thrown himself down the nearest chute.   
  
"Why does he have the keystone?" Neither of us can answer my question, and the only option is to follow.   
  
What is he doing? I can't understand –why- he'd want it, what he's doing.. He used to work here (right?), did Dio want it back? That's silly! Then again, it was rather odd how Dio had agreed to allow us to have it provided Cloud fought a minimum of once.  
  
"CAIT SITH!" He still hasn't responded, and now Cloud's shouting-—  
we're following him, stupid thing (I'm even beginning to grow irritated, despite my confusion) and the chase is taking us through halls and over stairs.   
  
Of course, he would know the Saucer better. He's large, though, and easy to spot—-behind the chocobo suit, crouching by a counter. It's the size of his hastened hops that's drawing this out.  
  
"Cait, wait!" He speeds out of the glass entrance to the chocobo raceways, and we're right behind after some conflict of pushing past garrulous employees.  
  
"No!" The words come before I can even realize the situation—-a helicopter, the keystone thrown, a gloved hand in wait.   
  
The whirling blades are a far throb in the sky by the time we reach him, eyes blazing and—-at least in my case—-hands fisted.  
  
He looks at us, small cat perched calmly on the top of a fair sized mog, and I can't hear anything he's saying. Or anything Cloud is, for that matter-—there's a whistle screaming through my head, outraged and betrayed.   
  
I can't believe it. But at the same time, I can—-the incident and Gongaga happened right after we met him, -right- after.. Planet… 

  
We are all so stupid. –I- am so stupid. But what can you expect when you gladly welcome stray, thieving ninjas, cats on mogs, men resembling vampires and so on into your party? Simply because it's convenient. It's stupid, that's what it is.. How are we supposed to know their intent? We've already learned that lesson from Yuffie, many times, and hells bells at those times I feel like I've just lost a million gil because I said two plus two was seventeen.   
  
"So why don't we just forget it and keep going..?" I wake up just in time to hear the last of it. Cloud looks like he's about to rip off the stuffed cat's head, and I snort.  
  
"You must be kidding!"  
  
Of course, who would argue with Cloud Leader-Man? And he's right when he says we need people. Challenging ShinRa and someone with the power of Sephiroth (hm, but Jenova) requires a little more than a few determined people.   
  
I remember –laughing- with him, talking, asking him to read my fortune—-it made him happy, it seemed, it looked like. But that supposed cheer really just an activation of circuits, the seemingly genuine spark to his eyes a carefully manufactured reaction? I'm such an idiot—-I trusted him, just like everyone else. Everyone else who placed their faith in him.. And the many people I've made the mistake of relying on in the past.  
  
He's talking about why we have to pretend this hasn't happened-—I had tuned him out again, but now he holds up the.. phone, yes? He's got the volume on max, holding it out to our focused ears. I freeze.  
  
  
-'Papa! Tifa!'-  
  
It's Marlene. I take a step forward—-an involuntary reaction to this revelation.  
  
"Marlene?!"  
  
-'Flower lady..? Flower lady..'-  
  
Planet, she remembers me. Everything's sort of blurry—-I can't see straight.   
  
I'm so angry-—I want to be mad at Cait, furious, I want to yell and seethe. I want to break something. But you can't blame him without blaming the world, the world that allows this and almost seems to breed people to do this sort of thing. It takes all a person can give in order to resist it.  
  
I want to be mad at him, but I can't be—-No, I'm enraged at the world, at society. At ShinRa, and even whatever is (if anything) beyond ShinRa.  
  
Cloud states our situation clearly.  
  
"Ugh."  
  
I couldn't have said it better myself.

{To be continued}


End file.
